


A Blue Christmas (Secret Santa 2020)

by NullNoMore



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles X
Genre: L is running it, Merry Christmas 2020 it has been a year, Presents for everyone, Secret Santa, alcohol mention, not enough skells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28319517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NullNoMore/pseuds/NullNoMore
Summary: L, that consummate businessperson, is running NLA's Secret Santa swap. Let that settle in your brain for a moment. All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Registration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> L is running a Secret Santa for BLADE and NLA. The city is trusting him to make the matches between gift giver and gift receiver. He is a consummate businessman and the event will run amazingly well. But he's not above making a little extra in the process.
> 
> Warning: there are footnotes. I'm trying to avoid violence, swears, and OCs, but I can't avoid all bad habits.

"Welcome and happy to our first annual Secretive Santa exchange!" The smiling blue face, a toothy grin that stretched from ear to ear, horn to horn, was as confident and charming as imaginable. L was speaking to no one and everyone in the mass broadcast. The commercial had chimed on every BLADE comm device, as well as most civilian devices, every day that first week of December. [1]

"By pressing the button marked 'Ho ho oh oh' you agree to participate in the exchange, as well as offer us an early Holiday present of 500 credits. In return, we will match you oh ho so secretly with another participant. But that is not all! We provide the first gift, a card from a wide selection, delivered to their device at a safe and Santa approved time. Two days later we shall deliver the second gift, whatever beverage that you may bring to us. Needless and pins to say, we can also provide the liquid of your choosing for a hopefully solid gratuity."

There was a pause to flash several advertisements from the Repenta Diner and the Sunshine Cafe, glittering with ovis wearing reindeer antler headbands and forfex with Santa hats [2], offering beverage suggestions of different strengths and attractive qualities. ("Feliz Navidad mescal jello shots!" "Double Mocha Eggnog-achino, with complementary snowflake cup! snowman emoji heart emoji coffee emoji!")

"The final stage [3] will be a Festive Holiday Party, December 24th at 1900, the Outfitter's Hangar, with final gift exchange. You can either submit your gift to us by noon of the day, or we will provide our best interpretation of your feelings. Let no one go ungifted or unwarned!"

xcxcxcxcxcxcx

Gwin sidled nonchalantly up to L's business area. It couldn't be called a storefront, consisting of a beautiful rug, a few tables laden with tempting objects, and the powerful upgrade machine quietly humming by the wall. Gwin had strolled along Amory Alley, pretending to consider the weapons on display, the armor and skell augments, the commercials for new merchandise from Candid & Credible. He'd walked onto the BLADE promontory to shoot the breeze with Lara, then circled back along the bustling alley, always hoping that the store would be free of customers. He really didn't want anyone else in NLA knowing his business.

After the fifteenth circuit, he was in luck. There was another customer, an anonymous Pathfinder with a drooping hibiscus, but the Ma-non shop assistant was helping him. L was standing quite alone. Gwin walked up to the tall alien before he lost his chance (or his nerve).

"Um, L, about your Secret Santa thing..."

"It is _our_ Secret Santa thing, not _our_ Secret Santa thing, our dear Gwin."

By which Gwin thought L was maybe talking about the city rather than his own enterprise, but that wasn't something that Gwin really cared about. "Uh, right, the Secret Santa. Is there a way, you know, to maybe ... make the choice not so secret?"

"We understand your impatience, but all will be revealed in good minutes."

"No, I mean, can I maybe pick who my giftee is?"

"Gifty? We are enchanted with this word. Holly, jolly, gifty..."

"Irina. I want to give presents to Irina Akulov," Gwin blurted.

L beamed down at the young BLADE. "And we have gifts for you to purchase to that end!"

Gwin tried again. "Can I join the Secret Santa exchange but be sure that Irina will be my match? I want to be her Secret Santa, the one giving her the gifts. Please? You haven't chosen the match-ups yet, have you?"

"That isn't very secret."

"She'll still be surprised," Gwin wheedled. "And I know her really well, so I'd be sure to give her gifts that she'd like, stuff that would make her happy. Doesn't she deserve to get nice things?" He looked as innocent and honest as a puppy surrounded by shredded Christmas presents.

L tilted his head and tapped his chin with a long blue finger for a moment, then smiled generously. "Of course, young friend. We will make the necessary changes to our databaseline. Alas, it will require much more effort and expense."

Gwin looked blank.

L kept his beatific smile firmly affixed. "10,000 credits."

Gwin gulped hard and opened his comm device. Three sickening swipes later, the deed had been done. L shook his hand excitedly. "You will not be disappointed in us, or the eventual surprise." Gwin almost dropped his device because of the enthusiasm transmitted along his arm. It was a good thing he had taken a firmer grip on the scrap of tech because the rumble behind him took him unawares.

"That didn't sound exactly kosher to me. What mess have you gotten yourself into, Evans?"

"Commander! Sir! Uh, nothing, nothing! No trouble. Excuse me, I ... uh, I need to be..." No one heard where Gwin needed to be, since he has skipped out of the awkward situation before he reached the end of his sentence.

Vandham glared at the peaceful shopkeeper. "I heard enough of that conversation to know the lay of the land."

"We congratulate you on your geographic aural abilities!"

"Yeah, well, don't make it a habit." Vandham paused before stomping out. "But if it does become a habit, do me a solid and hook me up with someone cute and single and not in BLADE." He gave an enormous shrug that could have indicated the Arms Manufacturers' headquarters, the lower skell hangar, or the whole of the residential district. [4]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This did not include the Ma-non. Not even L was willing to risk interacting with the Ma-non's cheerful, anarchic, and highly inquisitive messaging interface. Non Ma-non species found it easiest to give the small aliens hard copies and then back away slowly, rather than find their own ship's systems, inventory lists, family photos, and search histories thoroughly acquired, re-cataloged, and reviewed.
> 
> 2\. Forfex with Santa hats, Santa Claws, get it? get it?!
> 
> 3\. At this point ominous electric guitar music drifted from devices across New Los Angeles, a tune titled "Hark the One-Winged Angel Sings".
> 
> 4\. Vandham very clearly meant the lower skell hangar, but with shoulders that big, shrugging is an inexact science.


	2. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final gift exchange is ready to happen, so exciting. Feel free to have some punch and cookies while you wait!
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

L must have made a habit of offering personalized matches, or maybe other young people had come up with the same genius idea as Gwin and L had been all too happy to accommodate them, for a slight fee. Either way, up until the close of registration a stream of BLADEs and civilians had visited the store, all with some degree of furtiveness. L had reworked his matchmaking protocols to streamline the process, and he was able to satisfy the majority of his visitors, although he kindly pointed out that only so many matches, ideally just the one, could be made for any given individual. As a result, he could not promise success for high demand targets, although he gladly accepted the increased registration fee.

Now it was the day of the party. The cards had been sent and received, with slight misdirections, but as L pointed out, since all the cards were his own design it didn't really matter. Trees or candles, snow Nopon or saltat angels, all of the art was of the finest quality. Similar mix-ups happened with the beverage delivery, but since those were quickly consumed, there was little proof of failure left for senders to complain about.

However, there would be no mistakes made with the final round. L had guaranteed worried participants that everything would be done without mishap. "We are checking the list twice, for the sake of goodness. We will cross our heart with each name off the list." He made much of attaching the sender's name to each gift before fitting it neatly into one of the multitude of boxes he had ready and waiting. Then it was only a matter of wrapping the hoard.

"My fingers are getting a little sticky, okay?" twittered Giogion.

L frowned at his Ma-non assistant. "Will we need to recount the cash box at the close of business tonight?"

"From the tape, L, from having to use all this tape!" He waved a skinny arm at a growing mountain of finished boxes, now brightly wrapped in shining paper. "I don't know why you couldn't have used what I suggested earlier, because it would have been so so much better, I think?"

"Alas, spray-on decorative skins are not traditional for gift wrapping, and you know how humans do love their traditions with all their hearts and other organs."

Giogion pulled a strip of clear adhesive tape from the dispenser, winced as it tangled in his fingers, shook himself free, and grabbed another box, all the while warbling his complaints under his breath. At the other end of the table, L was doing his part to finish the task. He tied a wide bow around a present wrapped in paper printed with angelic Nopon prancing across a field of pink snow. There were only a few presents still to be wrapped, as it should be after almost 5 hours of effort.

L set out to comfort Giogion, who was as much a collaborator as an employee. "We are sure that there is another use for your clever concept. Perhaps we can find a way to paper over other issues. Skells, maybe?"

"Oooooo, paint jobs for skells, now you're talking! Wait, no no no, they get testy when people march down the alley, remember?"

"Then we must wrap the mountain around the molehill. Perhaps a secondary location. Or we could develop a remote paint bomb."

This topic was of enough interest to fill the remaining minutes until the chore was done. Giogion looked at the packages with fresh concern. "You're sure that the labels were correct, right?"

"Absolutely. We have placed a tracker in each box, in the mischance the outer label should become undone."

xcxcxcxcx

The party was a mixed success. The punch was weak [1]; the cookies were plentiful but dry and too small. The cupcakes had been provided by a Nopon small business, and while the snowman toppers were realistic, the decorative branches for arms turned out to be real twigs. No one wanted to find out what the eyes were made from. The Repenta had contributed a platter of homemade tamales, but those had been demolished within the first 5 minutes. Rosemoss' hotdish had congealed due to lack of interest, and remained untouched for the remainder of the party.[2]

All the same, the mood was festive. The Outfitters had decorated their hangar with long loops of paper chains and bunches of native flora that could charitably be called holly-like. A group of Curators were providing a cheerful seasonal soundtrack which thumped across the hangar from the upgraded sound system of a second generation skell. Conversation sparkled and people were happy to talk with close friends and new acquaintances. Guesses were flying, with sly hints being slipped into the chatter.

The crowd grew quiet when the music cut out. All eyes turned to L, now wearing a jaunty pointed hat, its pompoms clearly indicating a Nopon origin.[3] "My friends, we were told that it is better to give than to receive, so we must apologize that the best is over. But we are willing to make sure you get what is coming to you." L turned to Giogion, who pushed a button on a small box in his hand.

From high in the rafters of the hangar there was a whispered crackling noise. The crowd looked up and shouted in surprise as packages pelted down on them. The shiny boxes weren't simply dropping, however. They were swerving in midair, aiming with determination toward their destined recipients. Tiny puffs of parachutes halted them before they crashed into the party guests, although a few of the taller BLADEs found their gift bopping them gently on the head. Shock turned to laughter, and the party goers began to open their presents. Some ripped the paper, pulling their gifts impatiently into the light. Others methodically peeled the wrapping away, taking more time. But within a few minutes, every gift was visible.

At first, everything seemed wonderful. Most people were pleased with their gifts. Several were bemused but still happy. A few felt uncertain, possibly insulted. Such is the nature of Secret Santa exchanges. And yet, after the excitement of revealing their own gifts was over, a general malcontent spread. Something had gone wrong, very wrong indeed.

"That was supposed to go to ..."

"I thought my gift was going to ..."

"You told me the name was ..."

A small mob bunched around L, protesting the results, some furious, some whiny, some slightly ashamed. In every corner of the hangar small groups formed, trying to untangle the confusion, negotiating whether gifts should be re-exchanged or left with the first recipient. It was becoming clear that every single gift had been given to the wrong person. The more clever and patient participants realized that the same mistake had happened with the cards and beverages they had sent. Each round had gone to the same person, but that person was never the one they'd been told was their match.

L looked across the mass of confused humans and smiled. "Secret Santa Surprise!" he caroled.[4]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Two Mediators were stationed by each punch bowl, with strict instructions not to let Frye within 2 meters of the beverage.
> 
> 2\. This is slander against hotdish, I admit.
> 
> 3\. OF COURSE it was a red Santa hat!
> 
> 4\. No, really, Merry Christmas. I will have something for Boxing Day.


	3. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> L has an explanation for the confusion. Besides the fact that he really enjoyed it.
> 
> Slight swears (not because Vandham!), alcohol and female armor references.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and a big thank you to Ken, who gave me this prompt when I was desperate, do not blame her for the result.

Bless the Mediators for doing their jobs even when suffering their own disappointments. They clustered around L [1], keeping the more aggressive of his customers at a distance. Their mission was helped by the hulking presence of the Commander of BLADE himself, standing beside L and radiating a solidity to match L's glee.

He leaned over and growled at L, "You got a good explanation, right?"

"We have a magnificent explanation and it will be our gift to NLA."

Vandham nodded without conviction, then bellowed into the hall. "Shut it! We're getting an explanation, and a short one, and then you all better beat it back to your stations. Or your normal lives, for you civilians out there."

L was beaming, absolutely luminous with joy, as every eye turned to him. "Merry Season and Happy Greetings! When we began the Secret Santa exchange, we were concerned about imbalance. Of course we worried if one participant was treated better than another, but that was secondary to our greatest worry, a universal one. The receivers were given the gift of surprise but the senders were not. Now we have made every valley exalted, every hill low."

L lifted his hands into the air, embracing the room. "How much better a surprise to treat your enemy as you would your friend? To care for your brother as an anonymous stranger? To value someone as well or as poorly as another? Only by our ingenious solution could the secret be also for Santa."

Vandahm interjected. "Swell, but somebody's going to call that fraud."

L shrugged. "You will find your recipient's name in a message on your devices. If you wish to demand exchanges, we wish you the sweetest of luck." He looked more sharply at the crowd. "We will accept returns in unopened condition for a week, and please remember to explore our newest merchandise. And a happy New Year!"

Vandham stared at L for a moment, then swiveled to face the crowd. "Make sure you write your thank you cards, people, and be especially nice because your Santa was working with limited info. Unless you prefer to be rude." His face darkened. "Take backs are rude and I'm not a big fan of rude, you hear me?"

xcxcxcxcxcxc

Vandham's comment buzzed around the hall. Many people, on the verge of snatching a gift from another's hands, decided that just this once, since it was Christmas and all, they'd be nice. The congratulations were less than heartfelt on some sides, but slowly, very slowly to be sure, but steadily, the room filled with smiles and gentle laughter. New friendships were made as people met their imposters, found similarities or admired their differences.

A few were still glum.[2] Gwin slumped in a corner, bright pink and squirming with embarrassment. "It's a good thing the bribe I slipped L was so big," he muttered.

"Oh?" The BLADE sitting next to him was a blond copy of Evans, as well as being his best friend.

"Yeah, all I could afford was a stuffed animal. Not any jewelry or, ughhhh..." Evans blushed harder at the narrowly avoided disaster.

"So who got the present?"

"Don't know, don't care." Gwin slid open his device. "Bates."

"He's nice. Not great at his job, but nice," Mathias pointed out. "And single."

"Hope he likes the ovis stuffie."

Mattias sat smugly beside his sorry friend. "I'm meeting the girl who got what was supposed to be my gift tomorrow. We're going to give the catnip toys to Aisha, hang out a little. This Secret Santa has been great." This did nothing to improve Gwin's mood.

xcxcxcxcx

A few were glum, a few were still angry. Hope chased after one of the most furious BLADEs. "Sharon, wait, please!"

"You can keep the crap. I certainly don't want it back."

"I wanted to say thank you for the gifts. They were special."

"Ha. They weren't for you, and only a child would pretend they were."

"I realize that now, but I still enjoyed them."

Murderess stopped in her tracks. She crossed her arms and looked at the sweet Mediator with disbelief. "Really? The card with the rude saltat tower?"

Hope blushed. "I hoped the sender meant to be funny. Now I _know_ she was."

"And the whiskey? Thank god I didn't waste a full bottle on you. You wouldn't realize it, but that single glass was worth more than a skell. The genuine article, salvaged from the crash. Even on Earth it was nearly impossible to get something of that high quality. I bet you used it as hand sanitizer."

"I did no such thing. I told you I enjoyed my gifts."

"Really? I don't think so. You don't drink, and don't pretend otherwise."

Hope tried to look dignified and cultured, but her sweet smile slipped back onto her face immediately. "I had just returned from a very long, very wet, very cold mission. I don't drink, that's true, but it was a nice experiment. For medicinal purposes." She laughed softly. "I don't think I'll try it again, but at least I learned from the best." Hope looked wistful for a moment. "Everything, the card, the whiskey, the ... armor ...[3], it was nice to imagine being the person that matched all that. I don't want to be her, but it was almost like a vacation. And now that I know it wasn't a misunderstanding..."

"This whole thing is the definition of misunderstanding!"

"Now I know that it wasn't a misunderstanding about who I am or who I wanted to be, I can enjoy them even more."

"I bet."

"I really am thankful." She offered her hand to Murderess.

Murderess ignored the gesture. "As soon as there are lawyers on this planet, L will be hearing from mine." Then she snorted. It was a small snort, quite the ladylike sound, but it was still a snort. "Until then, Merry Christmas."

xcxcxcxcxcxcx

A few were glum, a few were angry, and a few were just resigned.

"I'm guessing my recipient isn't anything like I was hoping," Vandham said quietly enough for only L to hear.

"For you, our dear commander, we were careful to meet the specifications. Single, not in BLADE, and attractive."

Upon checking his device, Vandham slapped a hand across his mouth, stiffing either a blistering string of obscenity or a laugh that would have knocked L off his feet. It took all his strength to remain silent until he regained control. Then he dragged his hand down, tugging his mustache to even more impressive lengths.

"I used the word 'cute'. Under no circumstances would I call Maurice cute." He scanned the hall. "I don't see my new hot date anywhere. Did the present ...?"[4]

"We delivered it ourselves, before leaving the Administrative District. We are the life and soul of the efficiency party."

"Great. Well, if the threat of riot is over, I'm going to scoot. Merry Christmas, L, and do not pull this kind of thing again."

"Happy Holidays, Commander, and we will be pulling for you in the coming new year."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The quality of the punch improved immediately.
> 
> 2\. Clearly they hadn't had a fresh glass of punch.
> 
> 3\. Grenada skell top with plenty of room to, uh, breathe.
> 
> 4\. It was a cotton tank top with a chibi skell on it. Chausson now uses it to polish his cuff-links.
> 
> Did it, and a very merry 2020. We have a lot of 2021 coming at us soon, so hold on to all the weird gifts you receive in the coming months.


End file.
